Makhaira
by consultingsourwolf-inthetardis
Summary: "I will ask you again: come back to New Olympia, and I will bring him back." Sophia couldn't resist. She let loose a bark of short, harsh laughter. "At what price, Cronus? I know how you work; I know you like your trickeries. You'll bring him back, but at what price? Who do I have to sacrifice in the process?"


**Author's note: **This is a little something I'm working on for NaNo. It is in no way completed (I'm still working on the first chapter at this point), and the rest of it won't be uploaded until I've completed it. I highly doubt it will be finished by the end of November, judging by the number of ideas I have for this fic and just how big it's growing in my mind. This is something I've been thinking about writing for quite some time, but never got around to actually writing it until a friend convinced my to do NaNo.

So here we are. I've finally stopped being lazy and have taken the bull by the horns, so to speak. I'm just hoping this isn't as terrible as I feel it is. Keep in mind this is unedited, and will remain that way until I have completed the first draft. The prologue is just a little preview of what's to come later on.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_Lightning forked the sky with its jagged, sharp-edged tongue. The humidity in the air was so thick that Sophia could taste it on her tongue, and when she breathed she could only smell the thick scent of the storm as it drew closer to the city. It was fast approaching. Thunder crashed overhead, following another haphazard strike of lightning. It was tumultuous, shaking the building beneath her like a small, disconcerting earthquake. Sophia frowned. She was certain the storm hadn't been there moments before. Reality clicked into place only seconds later, as she realized this wasn't the waking world. She was trained in the art of perception and deduction, and found ease in seeing the little details that would otherwise go unnoticed by anyone else. Mortals didn't realize the Dreamworld was so easily molded; the location within the dream, the people within it, and what happens within the dream can all be changed with the blink of an eye – as long as you know how to do it. Mortals didn't realize just how powerful the Dreamworld could be – it was to be expected, though. They weren't as powerful as they thought themselves to be, although Sophia had to commend them for coming so far in the world. Just in the past one hundred years they had advanced tremendously. _

_Mere mortals couldn't even begin to comprehend _how _to shape their dreams to fit their desires, but for the Gods and their children, it came as easily as breathing. Immortal children had the gift of dream-changing from the moment they were born, though they were untrained and couldn't control them very well. It took time and effort to school yourself; some weren't patient enough to wait years. As time wore on, dream-changing was used less and less, and eventually the Gods stopped teaching their children how walk in the Dreamland properly; the mortals called it lucid dreaming._

_A blink of an eye was all it took to send the storm in the other direction. Within moments it had begun to dissipate. The rain relented, the clouds blowing away under the weight of her will. Sophia wasn't sure what time it was, but as the clouds dispersed she came to realize it was nearing morning. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten, black turning grey, then blue, before it gave way to pinks, reds, and golds. Sophia folded her arms across her chest and paced to the edge of the rooftop, where she watched the sun begin its climb into the sky. She knew exactly where she was – this wasn't one of her normal dreams. She had been called to the Dreamland to be spoken to. It was only a matter of time before he made his appearance. When it came to him calling her into the lucid realm, she was forced to comply to will, his schedule. Not the other way around. _

_These had begun several months ago, when she had left her travels around the world behind to live in the rainforest with Pan. Sophia was sad to leave behind the busy streets of Tokyo; the untamed wilderness of Nunavut; the massive stone walls of the Grand Canyon; the Rockies, and the small island Rousay in the Orkney Islands. She had managed to find peace there, and all of the other remote places she had visited. And, for a short time, Sophia had managed to forget about her troubles and busied herself with surviving the harsh unknown of foreign countries. She had favoured the snowy lands of Nunavut in mid-winter the most. Those days had provided plenty of work, enough to make her forget her past troubles for days on end. However, it eventually came down to the point where she knew she couldn't run any longer. Sophia would eventually have to return to New Olympia to make amends and fix what she had broken. Returning would hurt, but staying away would only hurt more. _

_Time was different in the Dreamworld. It passed however you wanted it, fast or slow. Days could go by in seconds with the mere twitch of a finger, or an hour passing by could feel like it was taking weeks. Finding that she had drifted off into the deep recesses of her mind, where she stored the most hated of her memories, Sophia shook her head and focused on the sunrise. It was higher in the sky now, far higher than she remembered. She shook her head again, this time out of irritation. Her thoughts of wanting time to pass quickly had altered the dream state, speeding time up without her realizing. _

"_You shouldn't slip off into thought like that. The Dreamworld isn't safe." _

_Sophia wasn't the slightest surprised when Cronus' deep baritone sounded behind her. It wasn't uncharacteristic of him to just appear as if out of nowhere – his favourite method of travel was via teleportation, an ability she grudgingly hated and envied at the same time. They were related by blood through her father, Ares, son of Zeus and Hera, who in turn were both son and daughter of Cronus. To a mortal, the incestuous nature of their family would have been appalling; to them it was simply natural. Long ago, before Zeus had populated the earth with mortals, he had married Hera and they had dozens upon dozens of children. Brother married sister, brother married brother, and sister married sister. It was how things had been for a millennium, and it wasn't going to change any time soon. Furthermore, a God or Goddess would oftentimes have a spouse and several lovers on the side. That role, at least, was something the mortals didn't find disgusting. The majority of the population did in fact have both a spouse and a love, sometimes more. In her travels, Sophia had viewed the world from a completely different perspective. She had known that mortals were cruel creatures, treating those equal to them with a harshness that rivaled her own father's if they disliked something about their fellow man. Men and woman who preferred the same sex other the opposite sex in relationships – romantic or sexual, it didn't matter which – were treated like filth. As the years wore on things grew better, as gay-rights were introduced to more and more countries, but it still didn't change the views of individuals. _

_Cronus approached at a slow, even pace. All of Sophia's senses were trained onto the God of Time, posture tense but ready to move. His steps created a rhythmic sound, a cross between a low click and the scuffing sound of his heel dragging again the rooftop with each step. Going by the previous visits, Sophia would guess he was wearing the same shoes as always: a pair of black dress shoes, shining so brightly it looked like they'd recently been shined. Fixing a displeased scowl upon her face, Sophia turned to face Cronus. He had stopped just shy of being able to reach her. As she had predicted, his shoes were the same as always. Frankly, she was convinced he wore them just to irritate her. It wasn't a difficult task to see the irritated expression she wore whenever he purposely dragged his feet when he approached. The mixed _click-shhhh _sound the shoes made as he walked could only be made with those shoes; the only other footwear she'd seen him wear was his customary thousands-of-years-old toga he'd been wearing since who-knew-when, accompanied by a pair of open sandals that only made a scuffing sound when you walked. _

_He wore a nicely-tailored suit to go along with his shoes; black in color, with a gold-threaded tie loose at his neck. The suit matched his eyes and hair, which was starting to go silver at the fringes. Sophia liked to think the suit and shoes matched his heart, too, if Cronus even had one: as black as the midnight sky. _

_Sophia took her time in responding to the God of Time. Her eyes swept downward to the streets below, where time had frozen the bustling morning in place. People walking to work stopped mid-stride in the middle of the sidewalk, some caught in the middle of the street as they crossed at a crosswalk. The cars, still in the streets, reminded Sophia of backed up traffic. This was her dream, and she could change it just as much as Cronus could, but for the moment she was glad for the quiet. The familiarity of the city's sounds was a comfort – she hadn't seen New Olympia in years – but the utter silence was peaceful. _

"_I'm not the one disturbing others in their dreams. We might be able to bend dreams, Cronus, but that doesn't mean we can go around doing it to others." Sophia's voice dripped with venom. Her eyes turned to Cronus. "Surely you don't need me to tell you this, Cronus." _

_His eyes glittered at this, clearly amused with her. Cronus stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and paced to the edge of the building, where he peered over at the stilled life below. He clucked his tongue and continued to watch the scene beneath him – it was like a paused movie, Sophia noted in the moments between conversation – before turning to look at her. "I am the God of Time, I don't need a child to tell me what to do." Sophia opened her mouth to protest over being called a child, but Cronus held up a hand and cut her off before she could even speak. "Yes, yes, I know how much you despise being labeled a child. A child is someone young and innocent," Cronus' gaze sized her up almost hungrily. "Given what you've been through… how old you are… you're no child. Still, you're hardly more than a newborn compared to me." Cronus straightened. _

_Sophia's hand clenched into a tight, white-knuckled fist. She longed for her makhaira, to slice and hack away at Cronus until he was nothing more than a pile of bloody limbs and pieces. Past experience tempered her craving for the fight, and common sense told her wild thoughts it was a bad idea that would only result in calamity. Cronus was thousands of times more experienced than she would ever hope to be. Time was on his side, both literally and figuratively. He was ageless, millions upon millions of years old, and could control time itself. She, on the other hand, was nothing more than a mortal now. Once upon a time she had been a Goddess; the second Goddess of War. Daughter of Ares, tended to by Athena for the majority of her life, war ran through her veins as much as it did her father. Sophia craved bloodshed and carnage, but even she needed peace at times. It was why she had escaped the city. Now she was back and as ready for battle as ever. _

"_I know you know why I'm here again." Cronus continued. He had begun to pace around her, keeping his eyes on Sophia. "I've been coming to you for months now… but I'm unable to convince you." This was nothing Sophia hadn't heard before. She tipped her head downward, jaw set. The seconds ticked by as Cronus' musings continued. He stopped suddenly, standing face to face with her. Sophia had to tilt her head up to look him square in the eye; she refused to break eye contact with this monster. "I will ask you again: come back to New Olympia, and I will bring him back."_

_Sophia couldn't resist. She let loose a bark of short, harsh laughter. "At what price, Cronus? I know how you work; I know you like your trickeries. You'll bring him back, but at what price? Who do I have to sacrifice in the process?" _

_Instead of replying, the God of Time flung his arms out in a great, sweeping motion. "I give you the city! I give you your life back! I give you your best friend! You will no longer have to run from your past. You can go back to how things once were. It is a gift, not something I'm selling." Sophia had been around Cronus enough to know when he was lying. He was a master of tricks, but even he was unable to hide the lies he let slither from between his lips. His black eyes gleamed mischievously as he awaited her answer._

_Like hell she was helping him. "I'd rather swim across the River Styx to the Underworld than take you up on any offer." She hissed. Sophia watched the composed expression slide from his face in the wake of rage. Without giving him a chance to speak – or attack, she wasn't sure which he would choose – Sophia spun on her heel and flung herself into the timeless streets below._

It was dark when she woke. The sheets were damp with perspiration, tangled between her fingers as she slipped from the Dreamworld into consciousness. Sophia wiped her sweat-slicked palms on the sheets. It was only after she had flung her legs over the side of the handmade bed that she realized a storm was brewing outside. Already it had begun to shake the enormous tree Pan had built his house upon. She realized it hadn't been Cronus who had created the storm in the dream – she'd done it herself. The storm in the waking world had influenced the storm in her dream. If only she could hurl it in the other direction just as easily in the real world.

The tree was built around the massive branches. Pan hated the idea of sawing away branches to make it easier to build the house, so he'd used the branches to his advantage. It was easier to get to the upper rooms, where their bedrooms were, using the thickset branches. The lower ones could be used to hang draperies and construct walls to create separate rooms. The tree house was like a child's attempt at playing house, but Sophia loved it. The home was quaint and quiet. When it had been finished, the house and tree was woven with magic to prevent it from falling or being damaged. The magic was so old, and so powerful, that Sophia doubted her grandfather or grandmother could tamper with it. The forest was a tangible thing – living and breathing, with a mind of its own. If it didn't want anyone to touch it, nobody could. Only Gaia and Cronus could shake the magic from the branches with the same ease as swatting a fly.

Unbothered by the storm, Sophia pushed herself from the bed and strode to the window. Storms had never bothered her in the first place, not since she was a child. Living in the rainforest had only furthered her tolerance for them; she could even go as far as to say she liked them. The rainforest was frequented with rainstorms every day. With the humid climate, thunderstorms were never out of the question. Each rain brought with it the possibility to turn into a deadly thunderstorm. Frankly, Sophia found the storms a bit of a comfort now.

When she had come to live with Pan six months ago, she had brought everything she owned with her. The only thing she had to carry her things in was a heavy wooden chest – built for her when she was younger by Ares. It was sturdily built and covered with intricate carvings depicting a heavy battle, men and woman hacking away at one another with swords and spears. Guided by memory, Sophia picked her way across her room. It was small, ten feet by ten feet, and she knew it by heart. Once she felt the top of the chest brushing the underside of her fingers, she pulled the top open. Her searching hands dug around the clothes and books within the chest. Her searching didn't go on for long. The steel blade of her makhaira – a gift from Athena in the mid-1800s – was cold despite the heat of the forest. It was luck that her fingers brushed the blunt edge of the blade; Sophia made it her duty to ensure the other side was kept sharp. Her blade was always prepared for battle, so sharp the slightest blow could cut deep.

The dream was still fresh in her mind. Bloodlust sang in her veins so loudly that Sophia couldn't help herself. She grasped the blade and swung it in a neat, wide arch. Shoulders set, she spun on her heel. A blaze of lightning illuminated the sky long enough for her to notice a dark shape move into the room from the corner of her eye. Knowing exactly who it was, but too caught up in memories to care, Sophia spun and caught Pan on the shoulder with the flat of the blade. He shouted with mixed surprise and pain, lunging away to put safe distance between himself and her. She countered by closing the distance between the two of them, aiming another smack at the opposite shoulder. Pan's fingers caught the blunt edge of the blade and held it in place. There were times when Sophia almost forgot how physically strong Pan was.

"Easy!" Pan remarked. "It's only me." As if she needed him to tell her that. The tree house was impossible to penetrate without Pan's knowledge. And if he knew there was someone in the vicinity, he wouldn't hesitate to tell her. She was almost as close to her as she had been to Achilles. At times she wondered if she was being selfish, using Pan as a replacement. She shook the disconcerting thought from her thoughts like loose crumbs from a countertop. When she didn't answer, or move for that matter, Pan tried again. "Sophia."

She hadn't meant for it to, but when she answered her voice was thick with irritation. "What?" Guilt swamped her; Pan had done nothing to warrant her annoyance. He was concerned; it was obvious in his voice. The frustration in her tone was more toward herself than him, but how was he to know that? Besides, she knew exactly what he was going to say. They'd been through this multiple times already. Pan was relentless.

He released his hold on the makhaira and stepped away from her – his back was against the wall now, she noted – before replying. "You can't do this." Sophia didn't need to see him to know he was frowning at her. Pan always frowned when he disliked something. Even in the dark she knew he was giving her that funny little scowl: eyebrows drawn together, forehead creased into little furrows, lips pressed together into a tight line. "You can't go looking for him. He's…" Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. Clearly exasperated with her, Pan swore. "Sophia, you know he's a liar! He can't bring _him _back, and you know it!"

"Right."

"Sophia…"

Sophia's tone had gone blank. How many times had they been through this already? It must have been at least half a dozen. She'd decided shortly after telling him about the dreams that mentioning it to him had been an incredibly stupid mistake. "No, I know he's a liar. But maybe I-"

"Damn it, Sophia!" Pan snapped, temper flaring. He reached out toward her, wanting to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Before he was within reach the makhaira flashed and the cold steel was lying flat against the top of his hand. Pan's lips curled back over his teeth into a silent snarl. He stopped, hand stinging sharply. "Sophia…" He warned. When he didn't try to stop her, she found herself growing even more irritated. Pan was testing her and it was gradually starting to grate on her already-worn nerves. When he shifted his weight from one foot to the other she moved the makhaira at rapid-fire speed and dug it into his chest. Lightning flashed; there was a wince on Pan's face. "Sophia. Stop."

She was as steady as ever. Keeping her blade hand steady was one of the first things she had been taught in her trainings. A good warrior kept their hands steady no matter what situation they were faced with. A shaking hand meant life or death; it was the difference between dealing a straight blow and swinging crooked. She might aim for a neck and end up hitting a shoulder. Another rod of puzzle-piece lightning darted across the sky as Sophia levelled her eyes with Pan's. The leaves around them rattled all the more as the wind blew more fiercely. Beneath them, Sophia could hear the trunk of the tree creak as it swayed in the heavy wind. A storm raged both outside and in.

Sophia's voice was almost as steady as her hand. Pan would be able to hear the shaking in her voice. He could always tell when something was wrong with her. "I have to bring him back, Pan. I-" Her throat suddenly felt as if it was beginning to close in on itself. She couldn't cry – not here, not now. Pan had become her rock in the past few months, but she refused to break down in front of him. She would break down in front of no one. She bit her lip to keep herself from blubbering on like a helpless child. Cronus' earlier words from the Dreamland, about her being nothing more than a child, drifted back into thought. "Three years ago Cronus escaped from Tartarus and killed dozens of mortals. When we stepped in to stop him and bring him to justice, he murdered Achilles. My best friend, Pan. Nobody announced Cronus' escape because-"

"I know what happened. I was there, Sophia." Pan was looking mildly uncomfortable now. Half due to the fact there was a blade digging into his chest, half because they rarely brought up what had happened in 2009. She had to remind herself, not for the first time,that Pan had been friends with Achilles too. Not as close as she'd been to the warrior, but close enough that Achilles' death affected him as much as it did her.

Sophia nodded, only catching herself afterward. Pan couldn't see in the dark. "He's out again; has been for two years. I have to at least try." What else was she supposed to do? Sit around twiddling her thumbs, waiting for something good to happen in her life? Sophia was bored with her day to day life; as much as she loved living with Pan, it was boring. At least journeying through the wilderness had provided some form of entertainment. She had busied herself with _survival_. Out here, surviving was easy. There was no effort needed. Seeking out Cronus would kill two birds with one stone… sort of. Cronus had been the first to step forward and make the proposal, whispering to her through her dreams that he could resurrect Achilles; as long as she did something for him in return. He was as slippery as a snake and vile as a rat; Cronus couldn't be trusted. Sophia could see Pan's concern, but she wasn't prepared to waltz up to him and immediately seal the deal. She knew better than that; she was, or had once been, a Goddess of War. First, she needed to figure out what Cronus' motives were and what he wanted her to do. Then she'd decide if she would help him or not. It was an ideal thought to send Cronus back to prison in the process, but fate said otherwise. It had chosen seven descendants over the daughter of a God to send Cronus back to his eternal demise in Tartarus. Eternal demise? He has escaped twice, Tartarus obviously wasn't the place to send him. Maybe sending him to the Underworld and letting the resting souls have their way with him. "Tell me about the seven again."

Spinning the makhaira deftly in her hand, she crossed the room to the window. Rain spattered her face as she leaned over the edge and glanced to the forest floor below; suspended a hundred feet in the air, it wasn't a fall she was willing to take. Sophia spun back to Pan.

"They're all very young. Eighteen, a couple seventeen." He crossed the room to join Sophia at the window. Bracing his hands on the sill, Pan leaned out and lifted his face to the illuminated sky. Thunder crashed overhead, shaking the house. "Not much younger than you, per say." He chuckled after a moment.

"I'm not young. I'm one hundred and ninety-two years old. Just because I'm mortal now, and look young, doesn't mean I am."

Pan didn't respond to that with anything more than a shake of his head. Instead, he continued on about the seven. "Some of them are direct descendants; others are distantly related to the Gods. Nonetheless, all of them are Greek and are blood-related to the Gods some way or another. There's one, Herry. He's one of Hercules' great grandsons. You'd think he's his son, though. And Jay, their leader, is like a carbon copy of Jason; a fierce leader, and stubbornly protective of them all. And Atlanta…" He trailed off.

She didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning and to read his emotions. They were thick in his voice, screaming at her what she couldn't see. "You like her." It wasn't a question. He'd mentioned the seven before, but he hadn't mentioned them in great detail.

Pan was uncomfortable again. He shifted from one foot to the other – a habit he did when he was out of his element, she noticed – then back again before answering. "Yeah, I do. Screwed things up last time I saw her, though, so I doubt I'd ever have a chance." He laughed, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. "She's going to save the world. No room for dating when you've got that much on your plate." Eager to get off the topic, Pan quickly went on, "There's this other kid, Archie. Descendant of Achilles, and so much like him that you'd swear it's actually Achill-" He realized, too late, that he'd brought up the entirely wrong person. It was too late. Sophia pressed the blunt edge of her makhaira against his throat, hand pushing him back against the wall.

"One of his descendants is in New Olympia and you didn't think to tell me before now?!" Sophia shrieked shrilly. Within seconds the knowledge seemed to shrink it. Her grip on the hilt loosened and she stepped away from Pan. Shaking her head to herself, Sophia crossed the room to her chest. She took a seat on the closed lid. "What's he like?" She asked weakly.

It had been a bad idea to bring him up in the first place, and it was too late to pretend he hadn't. He joined Sophia on the chest, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "Like Achilles: strong; fast; arrogant at times, but protective of his teammates." The sharp taste of iron bathed Sophia's tongue as she bit her lip harder than she intended. She ran her tongue along the broken skin, buying herself some time to think of how to reply.

"I'm going to New Olympia." She decided.

"What? No!" He must have been surprised, because it was moments after that Pan replied.

"You heard me." Her hands pulled at Pan's shoulders, trying to get him up and off the chest. He made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, and stood. When he made a grab for her shoulders the second time around, he managed to get a hold of her. It was a matter of seconds before she spun and the blade was pressing into his stomach insistently. "Dammit Pan, move!" Sophia snarled at him. Despite the blade threatening to sink into his stomach, Pan didn't move. He knew Sophia wouldn't go as far to stab him. She regarded him as family now. He found enough nerve to lay his hands against the flat of her stomach, going as far as to give her a tiny shove. Thoroughly agitated with this, she growled and put enough pressure on the makhaira to sink it several centimetres into Pan's stomach. His teeth ground together audibly; the wound was nothing compared to past injuries, but it still hurt nonetheless.

"You're just like Ares. You're too stubborn for your own good." Pan stepped back, relenting. There was no stopping her. He found his way to her bed in the darkness and seated himself at the edge, lapsing into silence.

Sophia peered through the darkness, where she could faintly see Pan's outline across the room. She pursed her lips, contemplating, before turning to rummage through her chest. "Good. I would hope the daughter of the God of War would act like him." She had meant it as a joke, but neither she nor Pan laughed. The air was thick with hostility and unspoken words; neither of them could pluck up the courage to say what they really wanted to say. The tense atmosphere was like a blanket, preparing to suffocate them both at any second now. Sophia glanced at Pan's concealed form in the darkness. "You could come, you know. To New Olympia; you could see that girl. What was her name again?" Sophia remembered Atlanta's name – she just wanted to hear Pan say it, to hear the happiness ring in his tone again. He wasn't meant to be sorrowful; it didn't suit him like it suited her.

"Atlanta." Even from there Sophia could hear Pan smiling. She smiled too.

"Yeah, her. You could see her again." She went on. "Maybe ask her out on a date." Pan snorted at this, but Sophia had known him long enough to know he was pondering over the idea. It would be nice for him to find someone to date, or even settle down with if she turned out to be the girl for him. Pan lived a lonely life in the rainforest, and since she had come to live with him he had become much more social. If she left him now it would be nothing more than a devastating blow. He'd take it personally, no doubt. "We should get going immediately, though. The sooner we get there, the better. It's a long walk to the coast."'

"The… wait, what? We're walking?" The smile was gone from his voice, fleeing in wake of a confused frown. "Why are we walking?"

"Do you really think I want my father to know I'm returning?" Sophia snorted. The idea was absolutely appalling. Ares would chew her out for leaving, first, and then he'd probably set her up with training day and night as punishment. Sophia didn't mind training, but her father's idea of it was completely different from her own. His sessions were brutal. "Besides, I think it'd be nice for us to stretch out legs a big. Take the scenic route, y'know?"

When she turned back in Pan's direction and lightning lit the room, Pan grinned at her toothily.


End file.
